


"Quiet Me"

by CavalierConvoy



Series: Relationship Status: It's Complicated [1]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Anger, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Excessive Drinking, F/M, Gambling, Gen, Head Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 14:37:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5052409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavalierConvoy/pseuds/CavalierConvoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the "Drabble Me" writing prompt meme on Tumblr. "Quiet Me"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Test Results

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Owlix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Owlix/gifts).



> Owlix asked for "Quiet Me" ( one character calming the other down) for Trailcutter/Artemis (OC); specifications were not given who was calming who. Which...was interesting, because the obvious choice (and the easiest) would be Artemis and her deep-end rages. "Battlespace" was easy enough to write, but I've had "Test Results" simmering: what would cause someone like Teebs -- a normally good-natured and even-tempered mech, at least on the surface -- to get angry, to lose his cool, as opposed to his more sullen, withdrawn state seen in his Spotlight? Now that was the challenge.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timeline: Soon after "Cybertronian Homesick Blues"
> 
> The results of the weapons test was nothing compared to the aftermath when the question of ethical practice is put to the challenge.

_Yeah. That didn't work out so well._

It had been what Cavalier called a total party kill: twelve mechs in the medibay, all with wounds ranging from shrapnel lacerations to severed limbs and cracked cranial casings.

The constant ringing in Artemis's audio receptors hinted she suffered the latter, and only because she had been caught between Waverider's descent and the floor during the test. When First Aid denied her any more painkillers, she sent a message to her ace in the hole: _Blue packets in my footlocker, bring them and NF to medibay. Battle Axe is off-duty and fanboy's distracted._

The reply: _What did I tell you about sparring with Sunstreaker?_

She glanced over at the yellow and black heavy speedster, who was fortunate enough to escape with lacerations, but judging from his griping, he considered himself the worst off. The medibay itself was controlled chaos amongst the wounded; as hurt as they were, the mechs were in good, even mischievous, spirits.

_Not Sunstreaker this time._

_Or Whirl. Or Skids._

Whirl was poking Skids with Landmine's severed arm; the amnesiac was returning the favour, at the hole in the empurata's hip where a leg had been attached. _Nope, not them either._

_Okay, I'm on my way. What happened?_

Now it was time to be delicate. _Funny story: tell you when you get here._

That...was probably not the best response. And she came to that conclusion as soon as she hit "send".

A cycle passed before a reply hit her screen: _What happened?_ Identical to the previous visually, there was weight to the demand.

Artemis realised her mistake: her "funny stories" were never funny. Quite the opposite. Damage control. _No, really, nothing serious happened. I got hit in the head and First Aid won't administer painkillers without consulting Ratchet and I'm fragging thirsty._

Mistake number two. She would blame it on the concussion. _Look, I'm fuzzy and need something to take the edge off. Please, just bring me the blue packets._

After five cycles, she changed tactics. _I'm sorry, I'm in pain and nothing's being done about it. I just want to take the edge off. It's bringing out the worst in me and if I said something stupid, I'm sorry._

Another cycle passed. _'Cutter?_

"I fragged up," she muttered, just as a spent pill cup struck her shoulder. Louder, she snarled, "No fair, I can't target!"

It started from the entrance; the rambunctious patients halted their high jinks, and, as the noise quieted in waves towards the centre, the argument from outside the medibay took its place.

Landmine, whose arm Whirl was using to irritate Skids, bolted to the entrance to act as lookout. "Looks like Brainstorm got caught!"

A collective groan filled the room.

"Well, so much for having any semblance of fun for the next quartex," Whirl grumbled.

"It was nonlethal!" Ammo protested. "Well, likely it was intended to be at full strength, but it was nonlethal!"

"How much you want to bet Magnus found out?" Waverider muttered.

"It's not Magnus," Landmine corrected, leaning further into the hallway. "Too many swearwords."

That piqued many a patient's interest, and those still able to mobilise did so, crowding around Landmine on the threshold.

"Oi, Skids!" Artemis snapped her fingers as he passed the slab she occupied. "Need your shoulder!"

First Aid protested at first, ordering everyone back to their slabs, then, when threats to call Ratchet failed, reluctantly investigated the ruckus.

With the unspoken permission granted by the now curious assistant chief medical officer, the patients spilt into the hallway. There, Brainstorm's protests were now legible, however harried. " — utilising a low-yield electromagnetic charge to disorient an opponent — oh dear, was that electromagnetic or nuclear? Oh, it doesn't matter, the intention was to disor — "

 _"Nuclear?!_ " That was a roar. Not a shout. A full-blown, rage-fuelled roar. "Have you any _concept_ of how horribly wrong that is?! And within ship's confines?!"

"Low yield! Not enough radiation — "

"Twelve mechs are in medibay because of your 'experiment'!"

"Oh, frag, that's 'Cutter," Artemis whispered.

"He sounds...sober," Skids observed.

"What's going on?" Whirl demanded from within the medibay.

"Trailcutter's tearing Brainstorm a new waste pipe!" Landmine exclaimed.

"This I gotta see! Yo, fanboy! Attach my leg speedy-like! I wanna see Stupidface lose his slag!"

Cheers rose from the crowd behind her, agreeing with the ex-Wrecker; Artemis did a quick head count of those in the hallway, and, of them, only Sunstreaker was a potential help. But he too was caught up in the fervour of the masses.

"Landmine, crowd control," she snapped, pressing her shoulder against the wall and walking along it for support.

"Artemis — " First Aid beckoned.

She held up a hand to stop him, then addressed both the medic and Skids, keeping her voice down, "Get this rabble under control; I'll defuse the situation."

Skids, of all the frontliners, was quickest to curb his urge for excitement, and agreed; First Aid weighed the options between going after her and tending to the more seriously wounded. "You have five cycles before I call in Ratchet," he relented.

"Better add Magnus to that list," she suggested. "If I can't break it up in five cycles, I'm gonna need backup."

Trailcutter shouting: that wasn't a sign of anger. He got angry, yeah, but he delivered it with tempered precision. It was rare for him to succumb to anger before withdrawal from the situation. If he was shouting, it was past anger; it was distress. He was scared. And 'Cutter didn't do well when scared.

Defuse the situation.

The confrontation had happened past the T-section, and had stayed there. On the plus, they were both noncombatants, and it was improbable the situation would turn physical. It had likely been a chance meeting: Brainstorm leaving the weapons testing area, Trailcutter approaching Medibay to find out what the hell happened. Artemis would sort the details later when her head was less fuzzy; summoning her squad leader tone, she barked, "What the _hell_ is this about?"

Brainstorm's optics expressed his relief of her interruption, but only for a click. She did not allow him to get a word in. "File a situation report. Now. Include all your data, not just the surface readings. If it's not on Magnus's desk before First Aid's report, your lab will be on lockdown. If it doesn't meet his satisfaction, you'll be the first to know. Go."

Without waiting for his affirmation, she turned to face the larger mech. "Stand down, 'Cutter," she ordered, meeting his optics past his visor. "Brainstorm had clearance for testing; we understood the risks. Stand. Down."

"If we could for a moment — "

Trailcutter surged forward; a practised move, Artemis grabbed his wrist and crossed it over his chest, then planted her foot in his instep, driving her hip into his, barring him from going further. His hand was radiating heat, Not A Good Sign. Equally so was her brain continued to spin with the block. "Brainstorm, you have four cycles before Magnus comes down on us and brigs us all. Shift your aft and go!"

Brainstorm held up his hands, his briefcase dangling from its chain, before retreating. Artemis waited a half-cycle before, barely a whisper: "Stand down. Please."

"He could have killed — "

"Stand down," she repeated, loosening her grip, her strength sapped. "Please. No one died, most everyone sustained only superficial damage, nothing more. We knew and accepted the risks. Please. Stand down. Let Magnus sort it out. Just...stand down."

She was still leaning against him, though now as a crutch, venting hard and heat sinks screaming within her cranium. All remaining energy was being diverted to keeping her brain cool, and she felt herself slide as her knees gave way, dimly aware of the arms that caught her, kept her from hitting the floor, cradling her, carrying her back to Medibay.

Hands that did not let go of hers.

_Situation defused._

 


	2. Battlespace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timeline: Post _Dark Cybertron_ , prior to Megatron's Trial
> 
> Celebration is cut short, and Trailcutter finds himself negotiating a delicate situation while completely fendered.

Trailcutter had been warned by many a crewmate: the Wrath of the Wrecker Prime was a sight no one wished to witness first-hand. Unless one was Whirl. But Whirl didn't count.

There had been times he had thought he had seen Artemis at her worst: Temptoria, Overlord, Tyrest's Legislators, the Ammonites...no, that was battle frenzy. That left her tired but grinning, and anything happening around that was incidental.

The quick message from Rodimus should have been a hint. _Dont let Art no bout SS._ SS? Smokescreen? Sandstorm? Sideswipe? Sunstreaker? Star —

 _Oh_.

That was just before the fight on the ocean planet — Hydronthena — where they had found Metroplex. And he had forgotten about the warning during the battle, and now, after the defeat of the necrotitan — neecrotitan? — he staggered from the bar, happily blitzed and half-dragging Mirage with him, although it was likely the former noble was there as support for his inebriated friend. He mustered a quick text — _Where R U? <3_. Normally her replies were instantaneous. This time, not so much. _Maybe with her boys,_ he mused.

The speculation was dashed when Sunstreaker, with Sideswipe in tow and Bob on his heels, past them. "Oi, Teebs! Damage control!" Sunstreaker laughed. "Guess who found out her ex was running Cybertron!"

Oh. _Frag._ "Where izzhe?" Trailcutter hoped he didn't sound as slurred as he did in his head.

"Desecrating the Ammonite bodies in the refinery, according to Whirl," Sideswipe shrugged, then, lowering his voice, "I don't really wanna go...."

"Well, better that than picking a fight with Starscream's honour guard," Mirage suggested, making a move to bring Trailcutter back to his hab.

"Oh, that's funny," Sunstreaker chortled. "'Honour guard' in proximity to Starscream. Well, seeing that Mags is too busy breaking up Chromedome and Prowl, it's up to us."

"Why us?" Sideswipe protested before doing a double-take towards his twin. "Wait, what?"

"Well, if you don't want to see the Wrath of Wrecker Prime, fine by me," Sunstreaker huffed. "How about you, 'Raj? You want to see what kind of carnage that Teebs' mech can do, don't you?"

Mirage now looked at Trailcutter with an expression somewhere between concern and horror.

The largest of the five exhaled, lowering his head and pulling away from the group. "My Wrecker, my responsibibity," he muttered. "Got it."

"Teebs, you're fendered," Sideswipe observed. "Maybe not a good idea — "

"Naw. Safer this way. Braver, too. Is good." Well, not good. But they didn't need to know that, especially if Mirage joined the _Lost Light_ crew. "Yeah, I got it."

"Frag you two," Sunstreaker waved a dismissive hand at his twin and Mirage. "I'm gonna see some action."

"Naw, is good. I got it." Trailcutter approached the lift, thumbing the glyph to the maintenance level, making contact after the third attempt. Entering the lift, he approached the back of the car and rested his brow against the metal, just as the doors closed behind him.

He had a plan. Might not be a good plan, but it was a plan.

By the time he reached the maintenance level, he contemplated the wisdom of not having one of the twins with him. The swaying as he walked was grating his equilibrium, and he had to stop a couple of times to catch his balance. By the time he reached the refinery, the rhythmic pounding was throbbing his skull. Still, he entered, leaning up against the wall and sliding into a sitting position, just as an Ammonite carcass flew against the wall. He winced, both at the brutality and at the crash.

"Hey, Art?" he beckoned, "Izzat necessary?"

"Was I seriously the last person to know?" the black and chrome mech snarled, hefting another green shell and throwing it into a growing pile.

"Mebbe they knew how'd you react and...didn't want you to get upset...?"

"'Upset'? No, this is beyond upset. This is the worst possible scenario! This is everyone knowing better and doing it anyway! This is stupidity! Madness! Just — why?!"

"Mebbe he learnt his lesson? Try to do good fer a change?"

Artemis barked a laugh; now she was pacing, which was marginally better than Ammonite tossing. "Only one thing matters to Starscream: himself. Just lying in wait. Moment he gets his chance, everyone's gonna be slabbed and he's gonna stand their, king of his dead hill, and he isn't gonna give two scraps about it." With a frustrated cry, she delivered a hard kick to another shell's midsection.

Getting a second wind, Trailcutter pushed himself back up to a standing position. "Art, yanno...it isn't worth your anger. He isn't."

"It's not about me! Please tell me I'm not the only one who remembers the slag he pulled! All the betrayal, all the backstabbing!"

"Art. Art? Please, listen to me." Holding his hands out to her, palms up, he did his best to keep his focus on her. "You're angry. I understand. But you don't need to worry about that anymore, right?"

"Why shouldn't I? Primus, I should have killed him myself when I had the chance!"

"But you didn't. Because you're the better person."

"And now Starscream's lording over Cybertron because I hesitated." She had stopped now, shoulders haunched and fingers curled as though ready for a fight.

"I don't think it was hesitation."

"Then what was it?" She turned to face the larger mech, meeting his gaze with her infuriated glare. "Why else wouldn't I do the universe a favour?"

"Because you loved him at one time. And you're taking it personally because he hurt you, hurt your friends. And I understand that." He opened his arms wider, inviting. "And you have every right to be angry. I...I just want you to know that I'm here for you. And right now, I'm gonna do what I can to help, but I'm a little tipsy and terrified I'm going to say the wrong thing."

She was about to snap; by the end of his admission, Artemis's optics widened, softened; shoulders relaxed as the fury drained.

"I might not be able to heal your hurt," he continued, "but at least let me comfort you."

She didn't move at first, then, jerkily, approached him, leaning into his embrace and returning it.

"Now, I've got a request," he muttered against her helm. "I think I'm gonna need help getting back to my hab...."

His spark soared when she laughed, genuine this time. "I think I can handle that," she agreed.


	3. Gamble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes anger has to be forcibly ejected. And there are those who cannot bare for others to witness the rage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bonus, this one anonymous, ask that ties into this neatly.

Pulling Smokescreen out of the gambler’s den had been the easy part. He had been thirty thousand shannix out and was about to take an ill-advised loan. 

Thing was, Smokescreen knew how to cover his bets. 

Problem was, Smokescreen didn’t know when to quit.

The moment the shark offered the bet, Smokescreen’s spotter made the call and called in the heavy artillery for an extraction.

Would have worked peace-like, too — Artemis and Skids could pull off some serious battle-presence, with Whirl flanking them, two ex-Wreckers and an ex-special ops kicking in the door to drag out their troublesome ex-Elite Guard companion.

For a table with a clearly marked no-weapons policy hanging over the players’ heads, the participants were well-armed.

Trailcutter and Cavalier had stayed with the ship; Cavalier had relayed the order to prime the engines by the time the others boarded.

“We didn’t know they were hardcore!” Cavalier protested as Artemis took the co-pilot’s seat, setting an anti-tank rifle on the floor. 

“Don’t want to hear it now! ‘Cutter, get us outta here!”

“What the hell happened?” Trailcutter demanded, locking in the exit trajectory. “I thought you guys were hitting the duty-free shop?”

“We were,” Skids explained. “Then we get a call saying this idiot got in over his head.”

“I had it under control!” Smokescreen protested.

“You were offered a seventy-five thousand loan at the table!” Cavalier countered. “You know what happens when you take a loan like that?”

“I had it — ”

“See this?” Artemis interrupted, pointing at the rifle at her feet. “That’s their insurance they get their money back. You got cocky. Worse, you got greedy.”

“You didn’t have to get involved!” Smokescreen countered as Skids staunched a grazed wound in the Praxian’s neck. “I had it under control!”

“You didn’t!” Cavalier snapped, turning her back on them to face the comms board. “You lost control as soon as they made the offer.”

“Everyone, shut it!” Trailcutter growled, haunching his shoulders. “We’ll sort this out when we get back to the Lost Light.”

Whirl ducked his head to enter the cockpit. “Yeah, you wouldn’t believe — ”

“Whirl, I said shut it!” Trailcutter snapped.

Taking the bench next to Skids, Whirl held up his claws, but complied.

A heavy silence choked the atmosphere on the return trip, and once finalising the docking processes, Trailcutter took the point of disembarking.

“Stash the loot,” Artemis ordered Skids and Whirl; to Cavalier and Smokescreen: “You two, get your afts to Security; we’ll need to fill out an incident report.”

“What?” Smokescreen protested.

“We’re already on brittle-slag with the Galactic Council and seeing that one of the gasholes involved in your little game was sporting a Gee-Cee armband — ”

“What the hell?!” Trailcutter shouted from the shuttle bay’s entrance.

“I got it!” Artemis ordered, grabbing Smokescreen’s upper arm. “March.”

*  
Three megacycle later

Hoist had called in a problem inside a maintenance closet; the lock was engaged and required a security override. After the excitement from earlier, a routine check was welcoming. 

By the time she had arrived, occasional crashing joined the rhythmic pounding. 

“Yeah, likely someone blowing off some steam. I got it.” she assured the engineer. “Might as well get back to work before Dipstick blames me for keeping you.”

Keying in the security override, the door slid open, and Artemis entered. “Oi, you wanna damage property, damage your own — ”

The pounding stopped, the culprit swore.

Intake caught in her vents. “'Cutter?”

A hard groan responded; Artemis cleared an overturned shelving unit and found herself staring at Trailcutter’s back. He was facing the wall, his fist pressed against the metal. 

“'Cutter,” she bit down her original question — you okay? — and settled with “Look, I know you’re upset. Let’s talk, okay?”

“I — ” He looked down at his right fist. “I’m not upset. Just…disappointed.”

“Smokescreen was an idiot. Magnus has things under control now.”

Flexing his hand, Trailcutter nodded. “Yeah.”

“Hey.” Approaching him on his left, she glanced up at his face; his expression was blank, his optics dimmed. “Need to rage some more? We can hit the range? Maybe spar a bit?”

“I don’t spar.” He growled, slamming his right fist into the wall once again. “I…I don’t want the others to watch.”

“I get it,” she nodded. “You got every right to be pissed. Supply run wasn’t supposed to go down that road. But it did. And the problems got dealt with, sorted out. But you need to get that anger out of your system. I get it.”

“I…I don’t like getting angry.”

“I know you don’t.”

He turned his head, a slow, deliberate movement, to meet her gaze.

“I also know,” she held out her hand, “from experience, that it’s worse to keep it bottled up. So I’m glad you’re getting it out of your system.”

He dropped his hand to his side, bowing his head.

“So take the time you need,” she concluded. “I’ll give you a hand cleaning up this mess afterwards. Sound good?”

The corner of Trailcutter’s mouth twitched. “You’ve been hanging out with me too long,” he harrumphed.

“You don’t hear me complaining,” Artemis grinned. “Just let me know when you’re ready, okay?”

“Yeah.” He turned on on his heel, regarding his tantrum’s aftermath. “I guess I’m ready, then.”


End file.
